Partials (48 page)

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Same old, same old,” he said, clenching his teeth at the thundering booms that shook the walls and ceiling. “How about you?”

Kira nodded. “The cure’s okay?” She felt for it on Marcus’s waist, brushing his fingers briefly as he did the same. The syringe was intact and the padding was dry; nothing had broken or leaked out. She left her hand there for a moment longer, looking into Marcus’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. Xochi screamed defiantly behind them, ducking back to reload while Farad took up the fight.

“What, this?” asked Marcus, gesturing around. “Don’t worry about it—happens all the time.”

“You wanted to live in peace,” said Kira, loading fresh shells into her shotgun. “That’s all you’ve ever wanted, just the two of us together, and I wanted it too, but I—”

“I know,” said Marcus, all joking gone from his voice. “I wanted everything to stay the same, but you wanted things to be better. And you were right, and it’s going to be better, it’s just … going to be a whole lot worse for a while first. And I think I knew that, and I was scared of it.”

Farad grunted behind them, not a scream but a soft, guttural moan, and his body fell to the ground. Xochi cried out, and Kira turned pale at the sight, dragging him back out of the line of fire. Marcus felt his neck for a pulse, bending close to listen for breathing, but there was too much blood—there was no way he was still alive. Marcus shook his head, confirming her fears. “He’s gone.”

“What now?” asked Jayden. The hallways was eerily quiet now that no one was shooting, though faint sounds drifted in from the distance: muted screams and pops of gunfire from the outer grounds; wails of patients trapped and helpless in the hospital; desperate screams of tiny infants, burning alive as the fever ate their bodies. The four friends crouched in the room, trembling and terrified. Kira looked through the door, but all she could see were a few narrow feet of the opposite wall. Not knowing what was out there made her feel blind and deaf. Jayden reloaded his gun quickly and efficiently, though Kira could see his fingers shaking with fatigue and adrenaline. “One more on our list of failed plans,” he said. “We couldn’t sneak in, we’re sure as hell not sneaking back out again, and there’s no point dragging you up to the Senate. Straight to maternity?”

“Straight to maternity,” said Marcus. He grimaced, shaking his head. “Kira was ready to die so that we could give Arwen the shot; I think we should be ready to die for it, too. It’s only two more doors down—if we can get in and inject her, even if we never get back out, we’ve won. The baby will be saved, and thanks to our display outside, everyone will know who did it.”

Xochi took a breath. “You think we’re going to make it?”

“Only one of us has to,” said Jayden.

Marcus stood up, undoing his shirt and removing the belt with the cure. He looked at Kira, then picked up his rifle. “If only one of us lives through this, I’d kind of prefer it to be you. Are we ready for this?”

“No,” said Xochi, “but that’s never stopped us before.” She grabbed a rolling chair and waited just inside the door, looking back. Kira and the others checked their weapons and nodded, and Xochi pushed the chair out into the hallway.

A burst of gunfire filled the hall, and the four friends leaped out after it, firing wildly at the surprised gunmen who were aiming at the wrong moving object. Xochi led the way, stumbling as a round took her in the arm, but she was already to the maternity room and slammed into the door; it didn’t budge, so she stepped back, shot the lock, and fell through as the door swung open. Marcus followed more slowly, either aiming very poorly or missing on purpose, trying not to kill the enemy soldiers but to scare them into cover. It seemed to be working, and Kira and Jayden did their best to keep up a steady barrage as they jogged forward. Suddenly Xochi screamed, and Kira heard a gunshot. Marcus sprinted through the maternity door a moment later and Kira heard more shots, and then suddenly she was down, a sharp pain in her leg like nothing she’d ever experienced.

“Get up,” growled Jayden, firing wild bursts into the end of the hall. “I’m almost out—I can’t keep them down forever.”

Kira struggled to stand, but her leg felt limp and useless; blood soaked her pant leg and pooled around her on the floor. “I’ve been shot.”

“I know you’ve been shot, just get out of the hallway!”

Kira lunged forward, crawling on her hands, dragging her leg behind her. The pain was growing now, and she could feel her own consciousness fading as her blood pumped eagerly onto the floor. Jayden cursed and fired more carefully, saving his shots, trying to keep the soldiers at bay one bullet at a time. Kira pulled the cure from her shoulder and held it up.

“Take it and run,” she said. “Leave me here and save Arwen.”

“You know, Kira,” said Jayden, firing his last bullet and throwing down the rifle, “I don’t think you know me very well at all.” He stooped, grabbed her by the shoulder and waist, and heaved her up to her feet, surging backward toward the maternity door, keeping himself between Kira and the enemy. The soldiers fired, and Kira felt his body shake with one impact, then another; his breathing grew ragged, his pace slowed, but he never stopped. Kira clung to him, calling his name desperately as he groaned and cursed and wheezed. At last he tumbled sideways into the maternity door, and they collapsed to the floor.

“Jayden!” screamed a voice. Kira turned to see Madison crouching protectively over an intensive care incubator, and her heart sank.
She’s already born. Are we too late?

Beside her was Haru, wild-eyed and disheveled, clutching a gun. He aimed it at Kira. “Drop your weapons.”

“Jayden!” Madison screamed again and tried to rush forward, but Haru stopped her with an iron grip on her arm.

“Stay here.”

“He’s hurt!”

“I said stay here!” Haru’s voice was like thunder, and Madison pulled back in fear. “We are not letting them near our baby.”

“Jayden,” Kira whispered, “stay with me.” She looked around quickly, seeing Xochi and Marcus both standing straight against the wall, their guns on the floor and their arms in the air. Marcus moved to help her, but Haru roared at him to stop.

“Do not move!”

“My brother’s dying!” screamed Madison. “Let them help him!”

Kira struggled to sit up, careless of her own wound, and carefully examined Jayden’s back; he’d been hit by multiple rounds. A moment later Marcus joined her, carefully removing Jayden’s backpack to see how much damage had been done. Kira didn’t see if Haru had let him move, or if he’d just come anyway.

The soldiers from the hall were in the doorway now, guns trained on them.

“She…,” said Jayden, though his voice was almost too quiet to hear, “has … the cure.”

“What did he say?” asked Madison.

“He said idiot Voice lies,” said Haru. “Don’t even listen to him.”

“He said I have the cure,” said Kira. She turned painfully, dragging her bloody leg. Was it just her imagination, or was the wound already starting to heal? She clutched the cure in her hand and held it up. “It’s right here.”

“You’re not getting anywhere near my daughter,” said Haru.

“I’m going to save her,” she said again, grabbing the wall and pulling herself, inch by agonizing inch, to her feet. She rested her weight on her good leg and tried to ignore the other, willing herself to stand through sheer mental force. “I have sacrificed everything I had, and everything I am, to save your daughter. Are you really going to be the one to stop me?”

“You’re a Partial agent,” said Haru. “You’re in league with them—God only knows what you’re trying to do to my daughter, but I will die before I let you do it.”

“I’m fine with that plan,” said Xochi.

“He’s dead,” announced Marcus, falling back from Jayden’s body. He looked up at Haru, gasping for breath and reeling from exhaustion. “He died for this, Haru. Don’t do this.”

Madison wailed in despair, and the child in the crib wailed with her, an incoherent cry against a world that brought nothing but pain. Kira stared at Haru fiercely. “You have to let me try.”

“Try?” asked Haru. “You mean you’re not even sure?”

Kira paled, thinking of all the ways she could be wrong, all the ways the injection could fail.
What if I’ve done all this for nothing? What if I’ve killed my friends and destroyed my world for nothing more than a sloppy experiment and some bad guesses and my own stubborn pride? The Senate warned me about this: They said I was risking thousands of lives and the future of the human race for one overriding obsession. Is it because I’m a Partial, driven to destroy everything just because that’s how I’m made? Thanks to me, the entire nation is in chaos, thousands are dead, and without a cure, we may never recover. Without a cure, it won’t even matter
.

But with a cure…

“I don’t have any data for you,” she said. “I don’t have any facts, my studies were all lost when the lab exploded, and the cure itself has never been tested. I don’t have anything that can prove to you that what I’m doing is right. But Madison,” she said, looking her adopted sister straight in the eye, “if there is one thing you know about me, one thing at all, it’s that I always try to do the right thing. And no matter how painful this has been, no matter how much hell we’ve been through and how many of us have died, this is the right thing to do.”

“Shut up!” screamed Haru, shoving the pistol forward. Kira ignored him, keeping her eyes on Madison’s.

“Madison,” she said again, “do you trust me?”

Slowly, tearfully, Madison nodded. Kira held up the cure, still wrapped on the belt, and Madison stepped forward.

“Madison, stay back,” growled Haru. “I am not letting you give our baby to that traitor.”

“Then shoot me,” said Madison fiercely. She planted herself squarely between Haru and the incubator; his hand quivered, faltered, and dropped to his side.

Kira collapsed to the floor, and Marcus ran to the cupboards on the wall to find a needle for the syringe. The soldiers in the doorway didn’t move, watching the whole thing with their guns pointed at the floor. Xochi helped Kira to her feet and took her to the incubator; Kira could feel the heat from the tiny body’s fever like a pit of dying coals. Marcus handed her a needle and swabbed the child’s arm with disinfectant.

Kira prepped the injection, hesitating over the red, screaming body. Right now the Blob virus was roaring through her like a pack of wild dogs, ripping and tearing, eating her from the inside. This syringe, this pheromone, would save her.

Kira leaned forward. “Hold her still.”

Madison held the baby close, Marcus and Xochi stopped moving, even Haru fell silent in the background. The entire world seemed focused on this single moment. Arwen’s thin, hoarse crying filled the room like smoke, the final, desperate sparking of an engine about to fail. Kira breathed, steadied her arm, and gave the baby the shot.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

“W
e have discovered a cure for RM.”

Cheers rang through the coliseum, applause and shouts and cries of joy. It wasn’t news—something so world-shaking could hardly be contained, and the news of Arwen’s recovery had spread like wildfire—but still the people cheered. Senator Hobb smiled at the crowd, his giant holographic head mimicking the expression in the air above him. Kira sat neatly on the stand behind him, crying again and wondering, as she had a thousand times in the last week, if it was all really true. If it was all really happening. She caught Marcus’s smile from the audience, and smiled back. It was real.

Hobb raised his hands to call for order, smiling indulgently as the crowd continued to celebrate; they wanted their chance to cheer, and he seemed happy to give it to them. Kira marveled at the man’s capacity for change—not two weeks ago he was helping to turn the island into a totalitarian state, and it had collapsed catastrophically around him, and yet here he stood, smiling and clapping. Kessler had managed to maintain her seat as well, and Kira stole a glance at her on the other end of the stand. The other members of the subcommittee had not been so lucky.

Hobb quieted the crowd again, and this time they followed, growing hushed as Hobb prepared to speak. “We have found a cure for RM,” he said again. “We found it, of all places, in the Partials—in a chemical they excrete in their breath, which reacts with the virus to nullify it completely. We learned this thanks to a series of tests performed by our local hero, Ms. Kira Walker, under the supervision of the Senate.” Scattered applause filled the hall, and Hobb waited patiently for it to die down. “These tests were performed, as the rumor mill has already told you, on a live Partial subject obtained as part of a secret mission by members of the Defense Grid. We admit, shamefaced but honest, that we were not as open with you about these tests as perhaps we should have been. We feared a violent riot, and in the end that is exactly what we got. Rest assured that in the future the Senate will be much more transparent about our goals, our plans, and our methods for carrying them out.”

Kira blew out a long, nervous breath, watching the crowd for signs of unrest. Everything Hobb was saying was, technically, true, but the way he said it felt so … greasy, at least to Kira. He admitted just enough to seem repentant, while taking credit for much more of the process than the Senate had truly been a part of. The crowd wasn’t cheering him, but they weren’t booing him either.

“Arwen Sato is doing fine,” said Hobb, “more fit and healthy than we had dared to hope. We didn’t want to risk taking her from the hospital, where she is under the strictest care of both the doctors and her mother, but we did record this holo so that you could all see her.”

Hobb sat down, and the holo-image in the center of the coliseum changed from a close-up of his head to a scene from the maternity center; Kira, even knowing exactly what the movie was, couldn’t stop herself from crying as Saladin, the youngest human alive, stood beside the red-faced baby in the hospital crib to whom he was passing the honor. The sight of the child sent a gasp of awe through the audience, and Kira let herself get drawn up in it: the first human baby in eleven years that wasn’t sick, wasn’t screaming, wasn’t dying or dead.